


why can't i kiss you on the dance floor?

by orphan_account



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, M/M, Prom, and no killer clown bc fuck that bitch, except it got way less angsty while i wrote it so it's ~loosely~ based off it, lots of fear of coming out, modern au but derry's still super homophobic, they're supposed to be juniors in this, this is based off secret love song by little mix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 04:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Prom is just around the corner and the Losers can’t stop gushing about it, which is driving Richie insane. He’s dead set on skipping it, until Eddie confesses he really wants to go. And withhim, no less.“why can’t i hold you in the street?why can’t i kiss you on the dance floor?i wish that it could be like thatwhy can’t it be like that?‘cause i’m yours”





	why can't i kiss you on the dance floor?

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based off the song “secret love song” by little mix

“I’m _ so _ excited!” Exclaims Bev lighting up her cigarette, legs intertwined with Ben’s as they lay together in the hammock. Richie rolls his eyes. Prom. It was everything they’d been talking about for the last couple of days, shit was getting on his nerves by now. He just didn’t see what was so great about being forced to wear an uncomfortable outfit to spend one excruciating night in school, listening to whatever music teacher’s deemed appropriate and downing shitty punch. Sure, getting to ask your crush out with some tacky pun written on a big ass sign can be kind of cool, he guesses. And yeah, maybe dancing all night until you can’t feel your feet anymore sounds pretty fun. But it simply isn’t that easy for Richie. 

He can’t let any of his friends know, though. He knows how much they love him, and he’s not embarrassed or confused, but there’s always this... feeling deep within him that just stops him from being completely genuine with them. Fear? Self-preservation? Both? He’s not sure, but he dreads feeling out of place; which has been happening a lot more lately ever since Prom was announced. He can’t really blame the other Losers for being excited, it’s only natural. But he hates how easy it is for them. They just have to walk up to their crush and ask the question, like Bill. Or they can just assume they’ll be going together, like Ben and Beverly. Even just wait until the infamous night and shoot their shot right then and there, like Stan and Mike were planning on doing. He wants to be happy for them, but he can’t help but feel miserable on the inside because he knows he either has to go alone and watch everyone have fun, or he has to ask someone he knows he isn’t, and will _ never _be, interested in. 

He subconsciously glances at Eddie, so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice he’s doing this until Eddie calls him out on it. “What the fuck are you staring at?” He asks, and it comes out just a little too mean.

Richie’s cheeks burn. The other Losers are so used to their bickering that they pay no attention to Eddie’s question, for which Richie thanks the universe. “Oh, nothing...” He quickly comes up with an excuse. “Just thinking about how all that attitude can fit in such a tiny body.” He laughs at him, hoping his cheeks are back to their usual pale tone.

“Are you- are you fucking serious right now?” Eddie looks around, as if checking to see if anyone else heard the same bullshit as him. “I’m not even tiny! I-I’m average height for my age, okay? And I’m like... just as tall as Ben! Yeah! Why aren’t you calling Ben tiny, huh?”

Richie knows Eddie is just kidding. Not so much about the “average height” thing, but about their little fight. They bicker all the time, it’s what they always do, it’s their thing. He knows every word they just said is bullshit, completely meaningless, but that doesn’t stop Eddie’s “Why aren’t you calling Ben tiny?” from replaying in his head non-stop. Because, really, why wasn’t he? Why was it always Eddie? Why was bickering _ their _ thing, and not Richie and Mike’s or Bev’s thing?

Oh, but he knows well enough.

Ben turns to them, “Don’t drag me into this.” Eddie sighs.

“Average height?” Richie laughs, “Is that what your mom tells you before she tucks you in bed at night? Does she go ‘Don’t listen to those mean, ugly kids, Eddiebear. You’re the tallest wittle boy in mommy’s heart. Mwah!’” He reaches to pinch Eddie’s cheeks, making kissy noises. He knows he’s just playing and being annoying on purpose, but for a second there he’s ready to give up anything just to kiss him.

“Shut the fuck up! And stop talking about my mother all the time, it’s not funny!” He slaps Richie’s hands away, unknowingly starting a small fight that Mike breaks off after a few seconds.

“The Clubhouse’s going to collapse if you two keep going at it every five minutes. No offense, Ben,” says Mike, to which Ben just shrugs. “Can you pleaaaase, be quiet just for once?” He sounds more amused than annoyed this time.

They settle down and Bill speaks before giving them the chance to hit the other again, “So Rich, who are you go-g-going with t-tuh-tomorrow?”

“Oh, I’m not going,” his answer gains Eddie’s interest, but the others look at him like he just said something completely batshit crazy, so he explains himself: “I’m not going to walk in there with no date like some fucking loser.” He’s sure he hears Mike mutter something about ‘We’re the _ Losers _ Club’ to himself, but Stan grabs his attention before he can say anything about it. 

“Mike and I are going without dates.”

“Yeah, because you got him his ticket. But we all know you’re gonna end up sucking face with that new girl Patty.” 

Stan blushes a little, and tries his hardest to suppress the embarrassed smile his lips form, “You can still go.”

“Hard pass.” Richie’s a little mad now, and he feels slightly bad about it. Stan takes the hint and stops insisting. Richie knows he just wants him to have fun, but he doesn’t understand, none of them do. He’s not going to explain them either.

The sun starts to set after a while, letting the Losers know it’s time to go home. Richie can’t get out of there fast enough, feeling like he might snap if he listens to any more Prom talk. They all say goodbye and go in separate ways, except for him and Eddie. There was this unspoken rule between them, so whenever they went to the Clubhouse Richie walked Eddie home. They never said anything about it, Eddie never even asked Richie to walk him to begin with, it just happened.

It started one day after the Losers hung out, Richie hugged Eddie goodbye and felt overwhelmed with sadness; he didn’t understand why, but he still went after Eddie. He didn’t have an excuse prepared either, but Eddie never questioned him. He just looked at him for a second, and Richie swore (hoped) he saw Eddie smile a little. They didn’t speak the entire time, which is usually incredibly difficult for Richie, but they didn’t need to. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it was peaceful and fulfilling. They do this every time ever since, and Richie never minds the extra walk.

They don’t say anything at first, but Eddie breaks the silence after a couple minutes, “I don’t think I’m going either,” he blurts out, “to Prom, I mean.”

“Oh.” Richie isn’t sure of what to say for the first time ever, and Eddie notices.

“Oh? That’s it? You’re not going to ask me why?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it.” This is utter bullshit and Eddie can see through it. Richie Tozier doesn’t care about that. If someone doesn’t want to talk, he just does the talking all by himself, but he never stays quiet (except that first time they walked together). “Why aren’t you?” He finally asks.

“Same as you. Couldn’t find a date.” Richie laughs at this. It wasn’t the ‘same as him’, not by a long shot. His laugh comes out bitter, almost like a scoff. “What?”

“Nothing.” He’s annoyed. Talking about skipping Prom is still Prom talk.

Eddie looks at him weird, but continues to talk anyway, “I just wish I could still go. Was kinda looking forward to it, sounded fun. It’s dumb, I know.”

“It’s not dumb.” Richie hates how fast the words come out of his mouth, but it’s too late now. “I could go with you.” He stops in his tracks. It’s like his brain is just saying shit without checking in with him first.

“Like…” Eddie’s eyes go from Richie to the side then back to him, “as a date?”

An alarm goes off in Richie’s head. “No! A date? No no no no no. Not a date. No,” he takes a deep breath, “I meant, like, I could go with you. As a friend. Who does friend stuff. Bros.” He looks away, mortified by everything he just said.

“Oh.” Eddie’s jaw tenses. They keep walking, both too afraid to say anything else. But then Eddie gulps real hard, like he’s trying to swallow fear, and says: “I’d rather go as your date.”

“What?” Richie whips his head to look at him, nearly walking into a pole had Eddie not pulled him away on time. His heart is beating too fast and breathing gets a little hard. He must have heard Eddie wrong, there’s no fucking way he just said what Richie thinks he did. His cheeks burn, his whole body does, actually. 

“I-I said I’d rather go to Prom as your date.” He lowers his voice with the last word, and Richie notices how scared he looks. Eyes wide and mouth agape. Richie can’t help but think he looks adorable.

“Really?” Richie smiles at him, beaming with happiness. An hour ago he would have cut off his arm rather than go to stupid Prom, and now he’s getting a date. A date with a boy. A date with a boy he likes (loves, but he’ll get there soon enough). It was all too good to be true, and for a second he thinks Eddie is just playing with him. His chest hurts at the thought, but it goes away the second he sees Eddie’s nervous gaze and trembling lip.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs as he says this. Richie looks down to his arm, Eddie’s still holding it. He notices and lets go, but Richie grabs his hand without hesitation.

“A date it is.” Richie’s smile grows bigger and Eddie’s expression changes completely. Richie bites his bottom lip and looks down to their hands once again. They feel warm where the other touches. They lock eyes once more and let go of the other, they’re in the middle of the street after all.

They continue to make their way to Eddie’s house. Neither say a word the entire time, but there are more than a few stolen glances and playful shoves to the side, faces still flushed red. Richie’s cheeks start to hurt a little from all the smiling, but he doesn’t care, in fact, he smiles even wider when his brain finally processes the last 10 minutes. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, so he feels his heart shrink when they reach the Kaspbrak household.

“I guess this is it,” says Richie.

“Yeah…” Eddie sounds just as disappointed. It’s quiet again for a second, both boys staring at the floor, thinking of what to say next. “Well… See you tomorrow night,” he says between soft giggles and awkward looks.

Richie nods as answer, too focused on Eddie’s cute, nervous face to come up with any words. He watches Eddie walk up to the front porch. Everything finally feels right for him, until it doesn’t. He abruptly drops his smile when his anxiety takes over his brain, and he calls for Eddie right before he gets to the door. Eddie turns around and furrows his eyebrows when he notices Richie’s worried expression.

“I, uhm…” Richie realizes they’re too far away to speak about this, so he gets closer. “I-I don’t know how to ask you this, but…” He runs a hand through his hair and then rests it on the back of his neck, trying to organize his thoughts. “Could we, like, keep it a secret? Like, being each other dates. I _ want _ to go with you, but…”

“You’re scared,” Eddie cuts him off. Richie sighs and lets his hand fall, now fiddling with his fingers. Eddie tilts his head and cups Richie’s cheek, he flinches slightly at the touch but then lets his head rest on Eddie’s hand. “It’s okay,” Eddie tells him, “I get it. It can be our secret.” His voice is warm, but Richie can hear the hint of disappointment in it. Still, it’s nice to hear him like this, soft and reassuring. Most of the time Eddie was yelling at him, or just yelling in general, and they were usually annoying each other to death with dumb insults and pinches on the cheek. They rarely had moments like this. Richie wants to stay like this forever, but it’s getting pretty dark outside already and he still has to walk home. He says goodbye one more time and goes on his way, heart rate increasing every time he touched the spot where Eddie’s hand was moments ago.

Prom day was finally here and Richie is still trying to wrap his head around it. He’s going with Eddie, as a date! And it sucks that he’s too scared to tell anyone, because God, he wants to shout it from the rooftops; but they know they’re going together, and that’s all that matters anyway.

The Losers had all agreed that Bill and Stan would pick them up, since they were the only ones with a car, and they would spend the night at Bill’s house after. Richie called Stan first thing in the morning, overwhelmed with anxiety, and informed him he had to pick him up as well.

“Why the change of heart?” He asks.

“Shit, um...” Richie whispered. He forgot to make up an excuse, he was pretty adamant on skipping Prom the day before, and now he was calling Stan at eight in the morning to tell him he _ had _ to pick him up too. “Well, I figured, since Eddie was gonna be alone too, might as well be alone together, you know?”

“Uh huh,” his tone is doubtful, but he just let Richie be, said he’d pick him up around seven after he went for Mike.

Richie’s alarm went off, meaning it’s seven o’clock now. He looks out the window and lets out an annoyed sigh when he doesn’t see Stan’s car pulling up. He’d been ready and waiting for the past 20 minutes, pacing around the room and tapping his fingers rapidly against his thigh. He checks the time again: 7:01PM. “Fuck,” he cries out. He knows he’s being ridiculously impatient, but excitement and anxiety are not very forgiving when mixed up. Richie flops down on the couch and takes a deep breath, he puts his legs up on the coffee table and starts pulling at the loose seams in the armrest to get his mind off of everything for a while.

His eyes dart to the window when he finally hears a car honk. He runs up to check if it’s Stan (it is), and trips over the coffee table on his way out. But it’s okay, he’s too excited to care, pain can come later. He gets in the car and closes the door harder than necessary, earning a dirty look from Stan. Richie knows they have to go pick Eddie up now, and he can’t wait but he’s also really nervous about seeing him, thankfully Mike turns on the radio and starts singing along the song that’s playing; he has a nice, calming voice, so Richie closes his eyes and focuses on the music as much as he can until they get to Eddie’s house.

The car stops moving and Richie opens his eyes, looking impatiently at the front door. Stan honks the car horn and Eddie comes out of the house a few seconds later. He’s wearing a deep blue tux, and Richie worries for a second because “_Fuck, were we supposed to match? _”, but the thought leaves his mind when he sees Eddie’s curls bounce on his head as he goes down the stairs. He looks…

“...beautiful.” Richie freezes. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Shit. Did he just say that out loud? His eyes move to the front seats, his head completely still as if that makes him invisible, trying to figure out whether or not Mike and Stan heard him, but it’s nighttime and the way he’s sitting doesn’t allow him a clear view of his friends, so he doesn’t see Stan roll his eyes and Mike suck his lips to contain his laugh. The awkward moment is soon interrupted by Eddie getting in the car, flashing Richie a wide smile as he greeted everyone. He puts his seat belt on as Stan starts driving to the school.

Everyone’s quiet, the only present sound in the car is the music coming from the radio. It was some song about being so into someone you can barely breath, Richie’s sure he’s heard it before at some point, the melody is familiar, but he can’t quite put a name to it. He finds the lyrics funny, considering how he essentially forgot how to breathe when Eddie said he wanted to be his date.

“_ ...is this gonna happen? Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move… _”

Ha. Another coincidence.

“_ ...got everyone watchin’ us, so baby, let’s keep it secret… _”

This time Richie lets out a chuckle. That wasn’t a coincidence, that was the universe straight up fucking with him. Eddie looks at him with his brows furrowed in amusement, the same bright smile decorating his face.

“You okay, Rich?” asks Mike.

“Yeah, all good.” He vaguely gestures to his head, “Just remembered something funny.”

They fall silent again. Richie notices Eddie is still staring at him, which makes him smile, but he doesn’t turn to face him. Instead, he extends his arm to the side, resting his hand in the middle of the car seat. It takes Eddie a moment to understand, but he eventually copies Richie’s movement and rests his hand next to Richie’s. Their eyes are fixated in the back of the front seats, making sure the boys sitting in them don’t notice the fireworks within their touch. Richie lifts his pinkie and hesitates for a second, but ends up intertwining it with Eddie’s, who faces the opposite direction, hiding his face in his own shoulder. “_This is so much better than hand holding,_” Richie thinks.

They don’t move for the rest of the car ride, scared that the other would pull away if they did. Stan parks and they don’t let go of the other until they open the car doors, basking in the touch until the very last second. They get out and walk into the building side by side, shoulder to shoulder, merely inches apart. The gym is filled with blue neon lights and loud music Richie would never listen to on his own.

Stan points out to one of the tables on the other side, “There’s Bill!”

The four boys make their way to the table Bill saved for them, waving at Ben and Beverly who were already attacking the snacks table. They sit down and start chatting with Bill’s date for a while, a senior girl named Betty Ripsom, who Richie thinks is too funny to be hanging out with Bill, and he makes sure to tell her this.

“That w-wuh-would explain why I hang out w-with you,” Bill shoots back.

“Touché.” They all laugh, turns out Prom wasn’t so bad after all, it was actually turning out to be pretty fun. Why was Richie so set on hating it?

“Time to slow dance, nerds,” announces Bev.

Oh, right. _ That’s _ why.

Richie sees her take Ben to the dance floor, sees how he puts his arms around her waist all starry eyed. They look good together, they look _ in love_. Richie’s stomach twists. Then Stan gets up and scans the room until his eyes land on someone; he looks at Mike, who squeezes his shoulder and wishes him good luck. He walks to a nearby table and asks Patricia Blum if she wants to dance, and even from here Richie can see his face is flushed red, but it seems she says yes seeing how Stan takes her hand and guides her to the dance floor. It’s just him, Mike, Bill, and Eddie now, except Bill and Betty aren’t there anymore, must’ve left while Stan went after Patty.

So it’s just him, Mike, and Eddie. All victims of an uncomfortable silence.

“Three broooos, chilling at Prooom, alone at the table ‘cause they’re date-less!” He _ deeply _ regrets it as soon as he says it. It was so terrible that not even Mike can hide how much he hates it, burying his face in his hands with a groan. Richie closes his eyes, too embarrassed to even look at Eddie, who he feels slowly turn his head towards him. He opens them to find Eddie glaring at him through his puzzled expression.

He’s about to say something when a girl he’s seen maybe twice walks up to their table. “Wanna dance?” she asks Mike, who looks at them for approval. Richie wiggles his eyebrows and Eddie gives him a thumbs up, and just like that Mike was also gone. “_Now, where were we?” _Richie asks himself, _ “ah, yes. Wanting to die._”

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck?!”

Both speak at the same time, easing off the tension as they laugh about it.

“I said I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. Think I panicked,” Richie tells him.

“Panicked about what? Nothing happened!” Eddie laughs again, sending Richie into what feels like cardiac arrest. “And what the actual fuck was that? Like, seriously. _ So _ smooth,” he teases.

“Yeah, I dunno. I just got really nervous when everyone started leaving.”

“Why?”

“You know, it’s just you and me here,” he lingers in the last word. He knows Eddie is just playing dumb to get him to confess how nervous he gets around him, but just because it’s true doesn’t mean Richie wants to admit it.

“So?” Eddie’s going all in with the acting, furrowed brows, lips parted in a frown, concerned tone, and puppy eyes that might just be doing the trick on Richie.

Richie rolls his eyes and playfully elbows Eddie’s arm. “You’re a dick,” he chuckles, and Eddie follows. God, what he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on his face all the time. He rests his head on his hand, admiring Eddie. His eyes go over every little mole, every freckle, he looks at the way he licks his lips after taking a sip of water, and how his hair was slightly longer than usual, allowing small curls to fall all over his forehead. Pretty, so, so pretty. Richie knows he’s gazing, and he’s sure if he could see his face right now his eyes would be heart shaped. That’s what Eddie does to him. Under all those stupid jokes and names, deep down in the most intimate part of his soul, Richie Tozier’s a hopeless romantic. And maybe his love language was clumsy and childish. Maybe he wasn’t the sappiest or softest, but for Eddie? For Eddie he would be anything.

Richie notices he’d zoned out for a moment when he can no longer see Eddie’s bright smile, his eyes fixated on all the couples dancing. Fuck. Richie sits up straight. He knew this would eventually come, but no amount of time could have prepared him for the pulsating pain in his chest. He’s frustrated and angry, _ so _ angry; at himself, at this town, at the universe, the list goes on. Eddie’s face lit up when he held his hand and told him he wanted to be his date too, and then Richie went and fucked it up asking him to keep it a secret. What kind of date even is that? He was so scared, still is. But not Eddie, he was an unapologetic little ball of raging fire and courage. For fuck’s sake, he risked _ everything _when he asked Richie out. And he was so ready to go in there, hand in hand with him. But Richie was taking that away from him, even after he confessed how much he wanted to come.

He swallows thickly, tired of his internal fight, and all the shame and self pity. He looks at Eddie and takes a deep breath, it’s Richie’s turn to be brave. So he takes Eddie’s hand in his, resting them on the table where anyone can see, and squeezes it real tight, intertwining their fingers. Eddie turns to him visibly surprised, and suddenly the smile is back, bigger and brighter, making Richie’s heart skip a beat.

He feels on fire.

“May I have this dance, kind sir?” he asks in his best British accent, which is, as most of his voices, absolutely terrible. But this time Eddie doesn’t give him shit for it. He just rolls his shiny eyes and nods in a way that tells Richie he’d been wishing for this to happen.

He gets up first and helps Eddie up, neither breaking eye contact, but the magic’s all gone when he turns towards the mass of dancing teens and sees Henry Bowers in a corner, leaning on the wall and staring right at them. Every name, every attack, every humiliating moment Bowers put him through replays in his head; and he hates himself for it once again, but he lets go of Eddie’s hand. Now he feels on fire for all the wrong reasons.

“Bowers,” he mutters before Eddie can say anything, barely turning his head to him.

“Fuck…” Eddie lets out softly, and this time Richie can see he’s just a terrified as he is.

Richie hasn’t moved an inch, afraid to lose sight of Bowers. “We should go before the rest of the psychos show up.” He finally dares to look back at Eddie, “Unless… you wanna stay?”

“No!” He replies immediately. His eyes move from Bowers to Richie, “Let’s get the fuck out of here right now.”

Richie’s frustration is back. How come _ they _ had to leave? He looks at Bowers again, he’s never wanted to punch that asshole in the face more than in this very moment. He knows he can’t do that for a variety of reasons, though. So he does the closest thing to it he can: He grabs Eddie’s hand again, his own shaking, but compensating for it by doing so with the utmost determination. He makes sure to stare Bowers dead in the eye, and he does it.

He kisses Eddie’s hand. Deeply. Slowly.

And it feels utterly terrifying, but then he catches Beverly grinning ear to ear over the corner of his eye, sending him a wink, and that’s when it hits him just how fucking liberating this is for him, for them. Bowers looks like smoke’s about to come out of his ears. Eddie uses his free hand to flip him off, and off they go, running hand in hand out of the building, not stopping until they reach Eddie’s house.

“Holy fuck!” Richie exclaims as he flops down on the stairs, out of breath from all the running and laughing. “Did you see his fucking face?!”

Eddie laughs hard, coughing a little from the lack of air. “I can’t believe we did that,” he says when his lungs have calmed down a little, letting himself fall next to a panting Richie. “He’s going to kill us, you know? Like, he always wants to kill us but now he’s definitely going to do it.”

"Oh, yeah. But I don’t give a shit,” he gulps and faces Eddie, “it was fucking worth it.” His tone is desperate, almost animal, like the words are coming out from deep within him, and he’s still panting. Though now he’s not sure if it’s from the running or from how close they are, and how Eddie’s lips look so pink and soft and kissable. He lets the adrenaline rush take full control of him, so he fights the urge to look around for possible nosy neighbors and pulls Eddie in for a kiss.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

The kiss is sloppy, a little too wet even, his glasses are in the way, and Richie has no idea if he’s doing it right or if Eddie’s even liking it. But he’s corresponding with just as much passion so he must be getting something right. It’s awkward and their teeth clash a couple times, but getting to taste Eddie unlocks something in him. It feels electrifying, like actual fireworks are coming out his skin. Time stops for him and he never wants to let go, breathing is overrated anyway. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist and pulls him even closer, trying to fusion themselves into one, because that’s how Eddie makes him feel: whole, full, complete. He’s a part of him, a part of his soul, that’s why he always pinches his cheeks and teases him and walks him home, and it’s why spending too much time away from him makes him miserable. Everything finally clicks for Richie.

He’s madly in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. (And Eddie’s madly in love with him, too).

**Author's Note:**

> ooof, so, i haven’t written (or finished, let alone posted) anything in a long time, but i haven’t been able to stop thinking about reddie for the past 2 months, and the day i was going to get my chapter 2 tickets i listened to this song on the way and, well, this happened. it was supposed to be way more angsty but like, canon’s miserable enough already lmfao. hope you enjoyed!
> 
> special thanks to emma ( @mikeshanlon ) for helping me & doing sprints with me, literally would’ve never finished this without your help <3
> 
> find me on tumblr as @stenbranlons!


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